


Remembering Sunday

by theshipqueen



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Songfic, its kind of canon character death???? york thinks shes dead so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 14:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3211808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theshipqueen/pseuds/theshipqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’d been 64 days. 64 days since the project ended. Since the Mother of Invention crashed. Since Maine stole Carolina’s AI and hurled her over the cliff face. He didn't see it happen firsthand, and the more he thought about it, he was glad he wasn't there to see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembering Sunday

It was Tex that told him about her. After the crash, everyone evacuated the ship. The severity of the situation he’d just been in reminded him of something he’d meant to do ages ago. He had to find her. Desperately searching for that head of red hair, York ran as fast as he could out of the doors into the cold. She would’ve easily stood out in the snow, but she was nowhere to be seen. He looked left and right, turning around and wandering like he was lost.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a black figure approach him.

“Hey, Tex, where’s Carolina? I really need to find her. I’ve got something I need to ask her,” he asked, his voice gravelly.

She only sighed and looked down at the snow for a moment before looking up at him again. “York, I’m sorry…” was all she said.

“What do you mean? Do you know where she is?” He was starting to get anxious.

“Maine took her AI. Then he… he threw her off the cliff,” she said, placing a hand on the other soldier’s shoulder. “I tried to get her, but it was too late. I’m sorry.”

York stood stone still, unsure of what to do. “Shes… gone?”

Tex didn’t reply. She only hung her head before patting York’s shoulder again and walking away.

 

* * *

 

_He woke up from dreaming and put on his shoes_

_Started making his way past two in the morning_

_He hasn't been sober for days_

 

Aqua blue. Bright red. And just a sliver of lime green. Those were the only colors he saw amongst the bright white. Loud sounds of metal clashing together, alarms blaring, and screaming rang in his ears. He jolted up in his bunk, panting and sweating. His brain took a few moments to readjust from the nightmare, his good eye focusing on the room around him. He ran a hair through his hair, now shaggy from going without a haircut for so long. Sweat dripped from his brow as he took deep breaths. He swung his knees over the bunk, his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees.

 

_Leaning now into the breeze_

_Remembering Sunday, he falls to his knees_

_They had breakfast together_

_But two eggs don't last_

_Like the feeling of what he needs_

 

Thoughts from Freelancer plagued his mind since it ended. None particularly stood out, but mostly, he just thought of her. He rethought how he could’ve changed his words in the last conversation they had. How he could’ve changed her mind. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it. She was gone.

York stood up from his bunk and walked around the room, attempting to calm himself down. The clock read a quarter past two and he leaned his back against the cold metal wall, sliding down until he reached the floor.

  
 _Now this place seems familiar to him_

_She pulled on his hand with a devilish grin_

_She led him upstairs, she led him upstairs_

_Left him dying to get in_

 

He could remember all he wanted about her, but it wasn’t going to bring her back. They’d gone through so much, and it didn’t exactly matter if they went through it together or not. The project wasn’t exactly the ideal place for romance. Maybe if they’d been in any other situation, it would’ve worked out. Somehow.

Of course there were times of scattered romance during the project. Stolen kisses on the training floor when everyone else was asleep, quick, suggestive glances at each other from across the table, the passing back and forth of that damned lighter from Ererra, and even the occasional sneaking into each other’s rooms for a night or two.

 

_Forgive me, I'm trying to find_

_My calling, I'm calling at night_

_I don't mean to be a bother,_

_But have you seen this girl?_

_She's been running through my dreams_

_And it's driving me crazy, it seems_

_I'm going to ask her to marry me_

 

He thought it was funny how well the colors of their armor complimented each other. Aqua, the color of the deep, mean, unforgiving, and unpredictable ocean. Tan, the color of the steady, anchoring sand. He couldn’t get her color palette out of his mind. Aqua, red, and bright green. She’d been in his dreams since the day she left. Most of the time, they were memories they’d shared together. It kind of made sense, in some kind of sick, twisted way. He always said how she was the girl of his dreams, and even after she was gone, she kept the title, whether he called her that anymore or not. She drove him absolutely bonkers, but in the good, happy, lovey-dovey kind of way. He wanted to marry that girl.

 

_Even though she doesn't believe in love,_

_He's determined to call her bluff_

_Who could deny these butterflies?_

_They're filling his gut_

  
There were multiple times that she’d try to call it off. Whatever it was that they had. Throughout the project, they were off and on, but for one reason or another, they always ended up together again. He didn’t think he’d ever admit it, but from that first moment he laid eyes on her, he was in love. He promised himself he’d never leave her side.

 

_The neighbors said she moved away_

_Funny how it rained all day_

_I didn't think much of it then_

_But it's starting to all make sense_

_Oh, I can see now that all of these clouds_

_Are following me in my desperate endeavor_

_To find my whoever, wherever she may be_

 

The more he thought about her, the more he wanted her back. The more he wanted to hold her and tell her everything's alright, the more he wanted to card his fingers through her long crimson hair, the more he wanted to be near her again. He felt like he'd been cheated by fate. He finally found the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but then everything fell to pieces. Somehow it made sense, but there was no way he could explain it. He spent countless hours wracking his brain for the perfect word to describe it. Finally, he found it. Star-crossed. Two people who care immensely for each other, but, due to their circumstances, cannot be together.

 

_Well I guess I'll go home now..._

_I guess I'll go home now..._

_I guess I'll go home now..._

_I guess I'll go home._

 

No matter how much he loved her, there was no way to bring her back, and he knew that. He didn't think he'd ever be able to fully move on, but he was pretty content with that. He didn't want to forget her. He wasn't going to say goodbye.

She never seemed to like goodbyes, anyway.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, hey, another Yorkalina songfic.  
> This time, with 100% more angst.
> 
> The song is Remembering Sunday by All Time Low.


End file.
